Favourite Games
by Sparks
Summary: The Master plays two games with Jack. One involves killing him. The other involves killing his team, one by one. Set during the Year that Never Was.


Title: Favourite Games  
Rating: M  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.  
Timeline: Between 'The Sound of Drums' and 'Last of the Time Lords'  
Warnings: Mention of torture, character death, mild Jack/Ianto.  
Summary: The Master plays two games with Jack. One involves killing him. The other involves killing his team, one by one.

* * *

The Master had two favourite games to play with Jack.

The first gave him endless pleasure, or so Jack assumed, and that was to come up with as many ways of killing Jack as he could. He bled out, was frozen, was boiled, starved, beaten, had organs cut out and was strung along until he begged for death.

The second game was worse. The Master hunted down Jack's team and killed them.

The first was Owen. Loud-mouthed, stubborn Owen Harper was brought into the main deck of the Valiant cursing up a storm, two months after the takeover. Jack, hands cuffed behind his back and a guard on either side, was helpless to do anything but watch.

"You fucking bastard," Owen raged at the Master. "We're going to stop you."

"You're already dead, you just don't know it yet," said the Master, bored. "Only reason you're up here is because of him." He pointed at Jack, and Owen saw him for the first time. He tried to run to his Captain, but the soldiers held him back, almost jerking him off his feet.

"He's just so fun to torture," the Master went on. "So many ways to kill him, over and over! But you know, I think this is going to hurt him even more."

Eyes wide and scared, Owen looked at Jack.

"Jack," he breathed. "We're still fighting."

"Never doubted you," Jack affirmed. "Never." Owen nodded but couldn't speak.

"Oh, this is so touching," said the Master sarcastically. "I might even cry. Any last words?"

"You're going to rot in hell," said Owen, glaring up at the Master. Jack refused to close his eyes as the Master levelled his laser screwdriver and killed Owen. The doctor dropped dead to the floor.

"Ooh, that was fun," said the Master with glee. "Can't wait until I catch the others!" Jack stayed silent.

The second was Gwen. Sweet, soft-hearted Gwen Cooper was dragged in, bloodied and broken, and flung to the floor at Jack's feet six months after the takeover. Again Jack was cuffed and guarded, and when she looked up at him pitifully a single tear crept down his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It's not your fault," Gwen rasped. She forced herself to turn over, to face the Master.

"Poor, pathetic Gwen Cooper," mocked the Master. "So humane. D'you know where I found her, Jack? She was in a work camp trying to save a load of mangy kids. How rubbish is that? How the mighty Torchwood has fallen."

"Torchwood survives," Gwen spat at him. "As long as there's anyone left to fight you, we survive!"

"There's no-one left," said the Master, rolling his eyes. "Toshiko Sato? I'll catch her soon enough. Ianto Jones? Please, he's nothing."

"Tosh and Ianto are so deeply hidden you couldn't find them if they were standing right in front of you," said Gwen, but Jack could see that her confidence was weak.

"You think you're so clever," dismissed the Master. "Little humans trying to play in the big wide universe. A band of misfits led by the biggest freak of them all." He shook his head in a feigned display of pity. "There's no-one left to save you, Gwen Cooper."

"There's Martha Jones," said Gwen, a defiant tilt to her head despite the blood soaking through her trousers. "She's still out there."

"Martha burned in Japan!" snapped the Master, furious suddenly. He strode to the nearest soldier, snatched his gun, and shot Gwen through the forehead without pause. Jack cried out; Gwen's blood and brains splattered over the floor and onto his clothes.

"All gone!" sang the Master. "Two down, two to go, freak." Jack stayed silent.

The third was Tosh. Clever, sensitive Toshiko Sato came with her head held high despite the soldiers gripping her shoulders in the eighth month after the takeover. Jack, cuffed and guarded, was proud of her as she was stopped at the foot of the stairs.

"Toshiko Sato," said the Master, "you've been a very naughty girl." Tosh lifted her chin defiantly. "Did you think I wouldn't find out about all that nasty alien technology you've been using to establish communications?"

"I thought you might be rather too busy burning Japan," said Toshiko viciously. "Besides, sociopaths aren't well-known for their brains."

The Master threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, it's such a pity I'm going to have to kill you!" he said. "I can see why you hired her, freak."

"Jack knew what he was doing when he hired us," Tosh said. "You got Owen, Gwen and now me. Did you even have a clue where we were until we slipped up?"

"Of course!"

"If you say so," Toshiko shrugged. "I notice you've not found Ianto, though."

"It's just a matter of time," dismissed the Master.

Toshiko glanced at Jack, and he gave her a nod. She smiled, just a little, just enough to infuriate the Master.

"Stop smiling," he yelled. "You're going to be dead in moments! What do you have to smile about?"

"Like you said," she returned, "I'm going to die. Why shouldn't I smile?" She shook off the hands of her guards, and stood tall. "You won't be here forever," she predicted. "One day, someone will stop you. It might be Martha Jones. It might be the Doctor. It might be Jack." She looked at him again with another soft smile. "After all, he can't ever die."

"Nobody can stop me," the Master said confidently, and lifted his screwdriver. Jack did not look away, and Toshiko smiled at him even as she crumpled to the floor, dead. "Mouthy lot, your team."

"They're the best," said Jack, unable to resist it.

"Uh, hello? Three of them are dead," the Master said, waving his hand. "Only one to go."

"Yeah, but that one's Ianto Jones," Jack told him. "You'll never catch Ianto." He could see the Doctor lift his head slightly, paying more attention now.

"Oh?" sneered the Master. "And why is that?"

"Because Ianto Jones is the best son of a bitch on that planet," said Jack fiercely. "You will _never_ find him."

The Master was enraged, and the screwdriver was aimed at him. Jack revived back in his chains in the engine room, still smiling.

Nine months, ten months, eleven months, and still the Master had not found Ianto. He took it out on Jack, finding new and ever-more vicious ways to kill him. Twelve months, and Martha Jones returned to England. The Archangel network and human psychic ability was used to restore the Doctor. The Master was shot and died in the Doctor's arms.

"You were always so sure," said the Doctor, sitting in the chair in the console room. "You never lost faith."

"I had something to hold onto," said Jack truthfully. "I knew you'd do it, you and Martha." He wrapped an arm around her and gave her yet another hug. "I'm not saying it was easy, but…"

"He killed your team," the Doctor said with a shake of his head. "You have to live with that now, Jack. Seeing them every day, knowing you've watched them die."

Jack thought of Owen's bravado, of Gwen's faith, of Toshiko's bravery.

"Yes," he agreed. "I have to live with that. But I've seen the best of them, Doctor, and the worst. Nothing about this past year changes that."

"You were so sure he wouldn't get the last one," marvelled the Doctor. "Ianto Jones. He must be quite someone."

"Oh," smiled Jack, "he is." The Doctor looked at him for a long moment, gaze full of more sadness than anyone should bear, and then nodded. "You'll have to meet him sometime," Jack added.

"Sometime, maybe," shrugged the Doctor. "Right then, we'd better get you back to Cardiff."

Later, much later when Jack at last allowed himself to grieve for the Year that Never Was, it was Ianto who held him. Ianto who dried his tears without comment, Ianto who did not question Jack's occasional bouts of claustrophobia, Ianto who comforted him when he was forced to sleep and relive the torture in his nightmares.

Ianto Jones, who had never been found.

Ianto Jones, the first person he truly allowed himself to love for nearly half a century.

Ianto Jones, who had given Jack hope.

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Comments are love.


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